


Blind Spot

by amildgroove



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Almost Rape, Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, Dubious Consent, Foreplay, Frottage, Kissing, M/M, Nightwing - Freeform, Poison Ivy - Freeform, Post-Occupation, Uncontrollable Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-06 09:41:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amildgroove/pseuds/amildgroove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During the year following Bane's occupation of Gotham, several criminals have come out of the darkness with some rather interesting motivations.  Take Dr. Pamela Isley, a.k.a. Poison Ivy.</p><p>John Blake, taking up the mantle as Gotham's new symbol of justice, Nightwing, learns the hard way that Ivy's kiss leads to some rather interesting control-issues with his libido.  Desperate to get back to the Cave so he can properly get a hand(le) on his 'issue,' John is suddenly drawn to the sound of people and fears his uncontrollable lust will cause him to do the unforgiveable...</p><p>...Until the last person he ever expected to see again emerges from the shadows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Gotham’s criminals have, as of late, developed some rather interesting motivations for their crimes.

John Blake watched a rather beautiful, fiery redhead calmly walk toward Gotham’s newest addition in tourist attractions: a botanical garden.  The complex recently expanded from simply a garden into a rather extensive research and development lab, housing several varieties of plants that are used in experiments for alternative medicine.

Yes, Gotham was on the mend in the year following Bane’s occupation. On the mend, but still breeding some rather…interesting criminals.

John’s homework on _this_ particular woman revealed Dr. Pamela Isley, expert botanist and recent plant-human-hybrid-experiment-gone-wrong.  Now she’s an eco-terrorist…something John never knew existed until Poison Ivy popped up on his radar.  The information on this woman’s criminal career was limited; she was processed at Gotham PD for trying to break into this very facility two weeks ago.  Judges sent her to Arkham for lack of any other idea of what to make of the woman, let alone what the hell to do with her. Apparently Poison Ivy broke out of Arkham the very day she had been admitted “via vines.”

John had wondered if this Poison Ivy could perhaps, crazy as it sounded, _control_ plant life. That information wasn’t in the data he had on her, but John had underestimated enough criminals during his year masquerading as Nightwing and gotten his assed kicked enough that, as a subtle offensive strategy, he preferred to observe before “swooping” in.

“Son of a bitch…” Ivy had broken into the lab _with a vine_ ; slipping the plant into the lock hole and casually opening the door, letting herself in.  Guess that confirms her manipulation of plants.

_Shit._

John wasn’t sure what she was after, but he guessed it was that rare species of rose the lab had received from Australia a month ago.  It had made the news in Gotham; apparently the lab was going to study the plant to try and glean some medicinal extracts from it that could potentially cure a disease rampant in children.  That was why John was where he was…he typically didn’t intervene when a criminal was robbing a store or something of the like; he simply gathered enough evidence that led the GCPD directly to the criminal’s doorstep.  It ensured that the GCPD was still forced to do _their_ job, while John did what he did best and found evidence where they would otherwise have to go through mountains of paperwork to authorize an investigation.  John figured an eco-terrorist would take more than a casual interest in a nearly-extinct plant on the verge of being dissected, and since said plant was going to help a lot of children—a very big sore spot in John’s heart—he figured he should intervene to prevent anything from delaying that research. 

Dropping down quietly from the tree he had been perched in, concealed in shadows, John stealthily followed Ivy into the lab, hoping to get the drop on her.

Rounding a corner, John saw her inside the lab, crouched down in front of a glass case, a sad, desperate look on her face.

John grabbed a tiny canister from his left armband, pulling the pin and throwing the smoke-bomb into the lab right next to Ivy.  Within seconds the entire lab and hallway was blanketed in thick white smoke.  The toxin in the smoke was meant to disorient and after extended exposure, knock someone out, the coughing victim immobilized enough that they could be taken down with the least amount of struggle.

John was immune to the toxin. He wasn’t before, and he would have appreciated a little heads up from his predecessor instead of just a duffle bag with some coordinates, but after a year of inadvertently knocking out his perp and _himself,_ John was well immune to the effects of the gas.

It wouldn’t take long for Ivy to start coughing and he could move in and knock her out.  John didn’t want to take any chances with a woman who could manipulate plants.  He had enough trouble taking down low-level thugs with crowbars; a meta-human was not someone he was going to take on in hand-to-hand combat.

John frowned, listening for any sound of Ivy choking on the gas. _Shit!!_ He should have been paying attention.  Too much time had passed and Ivy should have been on the floor in a coughing fit by now.  Instead…silence.

“Hey there handsome.”

John whirled around to the purring voice behind him, elbow up and poised for a shot to the head but it was too late.  Whether or not John had hesitated, conflicted over hitting a woman, or Ivy was just that good, he found himself slammed against the wall within milliseconds, bound from the neck down in thick vines.

_Okay…so she’s immune to toxins. Now I know. Does me no good, but now I know._

“I’m so glad you decided to join me, handsome. I could barely contain my excitement when the tree told me you were here watching me,” she purred, a lascivious smile spreading her plump, green lips.

John resisted grimacing and cursing aloud.  Can manipulate and _communicate_ with plants.  Fucking wonderful.

 Aside from twisting his head side to side, John could not move any part of his body.  All of the tools he _could_ have used to get himself out of this one were in his armbands or he could have (or _should_ have) stunned Ivy with his batons…which were strapped to his back.  He could not reach his armbands and he could not reach his back.  That meant he would have to talk his way out of the vines. 

John was not the best negotiator.

Nor was he equipped with any award-winning charm with the ladies.

Before John could open his mouth to try _something_ , Ivy pulled him closer to her, lips parting with a coy smile.

“How ‘bout a kiss for Ivy, hmm?”

“Uh, no—mmph!”

She captured John’s lips with her own, taking advantage of his shock by slipping her tongue into his mouth, gliding it smoothly over his own.  For the briefest second John tried to resist, was able to notice how strangely slick her lips seemed, like she was wearing way too much gloss.  He tasted something bitter from her mouth…

…and then he was thrusting his tongue into her mouth, straining his body against the vines to touch her, taste more of her.  He was suddenly craving her taste, _dying_ for her, and he was willing to do anything to have more.  He did not miss Reason as it fled his mind and felt no inkling to resist as Ivy cradled his head in her hand, her fingers running through the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.  John grunted against her lips, silently pleading for her to release him.  He would not run.  He would not fight.  He wanted to subject her to every pleasure he had in his arsenal, and make her come by his touch.  John would kill to have her.

Ivy suddenly ripped her lips away from John, stepping back and earning a vicious snarl from him, John sounding more animal than human.  He wanted her…how _dare_ she pull away from him!

Ivy looked around frantically before stilling, her head tilted as if listening to a conversation that only she could hear.

“Get back here!” John snarled, before keening loud when a strong wave of desire prickled the hairs down his spine and settled in his groin, straining with all his strength against the vines.

John hesitated in his struggle when Ivy stepped further away from him; wondered if her retreating presence allowed him some measure of clarity but without abating his growing lust.

“Oh god…no,” she whimpered, touching one of the vines desperately.  John noticed the vine she touched went out the door leading outside.  She began to tremble.

“Dammit, what is _he_ doing here?!” Ivy hissed.  The eco-terrorist spared one longing glance back toward the lab, where her precious whatever was still waiting for her, before bolting down the hallway and out the door.

John roared after her, his body absolutely thrumming in agony with barely-contained lust.  He renewed his efforts against the vines and found them to be weaker with Ivy’s retreat.  With strength he had never known he possessed, John ripped free of the vines and bolted out of the garden complex.

Skidding to a halt in the woods several yards away from the complex, John slumped against a tree, panting heavily.  He had his mental faculties back, for that he was grateful, but the mounting lust that heated is body was becoming damn near overwhelming the longer John went without touching someone.  Ivy was nowhere to be seen, and John knew he couldn’t waste his time trying to find her.  He was in no position to deal with _her_ at the moment.  He…He wanted to fuck someone, _anyone_ , but he blessed the clarity of his mind to realize how fucking _bad_ this situation was.  John couldn’t jump the first person he saw.  Clenching his teeth as a painful wave of pure _need_ racked his body, John took off in the direction of the Palisades.  He had a Tumbler parked in an abandoned parking deck, but didn’t trust himself behind the wheel.  There was an alternative entrance to the Cave less than a mile from where he was; if he could at least get within the confines of the Cave’s passages, he would feel better about dealing with this…growing problem.

Having an erection in his Nightwing suit was goddamn _painful_ ; yet another gem the How-to-be-like-Batman Manual had left out.  John started muttering the Preamble of the Declaration of Independence in his head to distract himself from the temptation to strip bare.  It worked for a little while.

And then John heard _people_ nearby.

_Shit._

He had forgotten that the alternative entrance was closer to the city than all the other passages…that meant there would be people nearby and that meant…

John tripped and stumbled to a stop as he caught his breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest.  There were a couple of people close to him in the nearby park; he couldn’t see them, the woods prevented that much, but he could hear them.  John shook his head, desperately trying to waylay his thoughts before he began to rationalize why he should accost one of those people and _fuck them_.

_Just a little further…only a little further and I can deal with this._

John’s eyes widened in panic when he realized his legs weren’t moving.  His body was petulantly remaining firmly in place against his wishes to move toward the tunnel entrance.  It was then John began to realize that the toxin wasn’t creating the effect of mind versus body…his mind was on board with his body’s desire to fuck someone as well; there was just a stronger portion of his mind, bolstered by fear of harming another, that was putting up a damn good fight in getting him out of the way of people.

A damn good fight…but it wasn’t working.

 _Oh no, please no,_ please _don’t let this happen!_

There were miniscule movements that had John on the brink of tears, his fear nearly overwhelming him.  His feet were slowly inching forward, toward the sounds of people, despite John’s best efforts to gain control over his limbs.  John had a flitting thought in the back of his subconscious that he did not want to acknowledge lest doing so give his body the leverage it wanted to bolt forward.

 _This isn’t working. I’ve failed_.

Giving voice to that thought would be the same as giving up…and John wasn’t ready to give up.  He was Gotham’s _protector_ , a symbol of the good that was buried beneath the darkness, filth, and corruption.  He was supposed to be an inspiration for people to stand up and do the right thing.

And that symbol was about to rape someone.

John choked on a quiet sob, the thought crossing his mind to try and reach for his baton and beat himself into unconsciousness.  He couldn’t shock himself, the damn suit wouldn’t allow it, but if he could knock himself out, maybe it would give the toxin an opportunity to flush out of his system.

Of course, John couldn’t make himself grab one of the batons. They were so close, just strapped to his back, and he couldn’t make himself grab one.

The voices of the people, it was two women, rang louder in John’s ears and he squeezed his eyes shut, muttering a silent prayer for the first time in years since he aged out of St. Swithin’s that God would forgive him.

Then John heard heavy footsteps approaching.

John gasped, his entire body stiffening. _No, no, no, NO!_   Whoever it was, they were in so much danger…John wasn’t sure he was going to be able to restrain himself.  He clenched his teeth, obscene images darting through his mind’s eye of all the things he so _badly_ wanted to do to someone right at that moment.  As disgusting and filthy as it made him feel, John just wanted to _touch_ someone, and he didn’t give a damn who.  John moaned, his erection straining painfully inside the suit.

“Are you very lost, little bird?”

John’s entire frame stiffened.

_Shit, shit, shit, shit, SHIT!!!_

He _knew_ that voice.  Every citizen still alive from the Occupation _knew_ that voice too.  It was unmistakable; and yet John felt disgusted with himself as every dip in the voice’s cadence ratcheted his pleasure until it pooled warm in his sacs.

Bane.

 _Run.  This is not a person you need to trifle with, just fucking_ RUN.

Of course, John still couldn’t move.  His feet were cemented to the ground, his eyes glued to the figure emerging from the thicket before him, every piece of clothing, every sinew of muscle, every nuance of that mask…all just as he remembered and had once feared.

John was briefly, blessedly, distracted by his painful arousal in wondering _what the fuck Bane was doing here_!  He was supposed to be dead, last anyone had heard of him, and yet there he was, standing before John as a living, breathing force of nature.  Where had he been hiding this entire time?  Then John’s eyes went wide when he remembered how he got in this mess in the first place.

 _“Dammit, what is_ he _doing here?!” Ivy hissed._

Had…had Bane been the reason Ivy rabbited out of the complex?  If that was the case, then Bane had been maintaining his reputation amongst the other Gotham-bred criminals.  But why?

John was not in a position to interrogate Bane, let alone get back to the Cave and do a thorough investigation on Bane’s movements over the past year.  Hell, John was still trying to encourage his mind and body to understand that now, right fucking now, was the time for fear.

John was not afraid.  He knew he should be, even _wanted_ to feel fear so he could get a grip over his desire, but he felt nothing else…just lust; hot, burning, agonizing lust.  Where the sight of Bane had once made John shiver in fear, it now had him trembling from his burgeoning arousal.  That massive body looked absolutely _delectable_ , and John so badly wanted to taste. 

He opened his mouth, hoping to say something, to _do_ something that could either compel him to haul ass and run or drive Bane away; the latter being the least likely.  Bane stopped before John and simply stared at him, taking in his shuddering body, his panting breaths, and his occasional moans.

John wondered for the millionth time since donning his own mask and becoming Nightwing, _what would Batman do?_   He was _painfully_ aroused and facing off with one of the deadliest criminals Gotham had ever known; and yet, he couldn’t help but feel like Batman would have been more prepared, would have _known_ that Ivy had a wicked-toxic kiss and been able to prevent himself from winding up in the mess John currently was trying to find a way out of that didn’t involve screwing the dangerous criminal in front of him.

 _Hmmm, but Batman left Gotham to_ me _, didn’t he?_ What was the point in speculating what Batman would have done?  He had, essentially, skipped town; hung up his cowl and left John with the clean-up duty.  Trying to pick up his predecessor’s mantle and live up to _that_ name, so far, had only resulted in terrible self-esteem and bitter disappointment for John.  He was done trying to be Gotham’s Batman.  It had gotten him nowhere.  John was going to do his own thing for once; fuck what Batman would have done. 

John still couldn’t run; trying to move his body away from the beautiful specimen that was still staring at him was futile—Bane seemed to be cataloguing John’s noticeable symptoms—and John could not make his body move an inch in the opposite direction.  Wondering if he could move at all, John took a tentative step toward the former reckoning of Gotham.

Oh yeah.

Bane’s brow quirked at John’s tiny step in his direction, meeting John’s gaze with a questioning look, as if to ask, _“Are you sure you want to do that?”_

Yeah, yeah he did.  Not willingly, but with the toxic-encouragement from Ivy, he definitely did.

John wasn’t sure he could count on much of anything to do him any good while under Ivy’s toxic influence, but he was certain the fastest way to burn the toxin out of his system was to either fuck or fight.  Either way, John doubted he was going to make it out of this encounter with Bane alive, but if he got the poison out of his system, then perhaps he could be clear-headed and sane-minded enough to finally haul ass.

With a feral grin, John lost all rational thought beyond his painful lust.  With hardly any control over his actions, he launched himself at Bane with the intention of picking a fight with the larger man and _hopefully_ making it out alive to fight another day.

That was his intent at least.  That wasn’t what happened.

With a quick motion from Bane that John couldn’t keep up with, he found himself on his back while the heavy pressure of Bane’s body pressed him into the ground.  John hissed at the contact of Bane’s leg against his straining erection; thrust his hips unabashedly against Bane to give himself some measure of relief.  It, of course, only made things worse. 

Not to mention Bane was _not_ even trying to fight John but was merely staring at him with those deep, penetrating green eyes.

He was supposed to be _fighting_ Bane…the larger man was practically in John’s face; a quick punch to that mask would probably incapacitate Bane or piss him off enough to fight back.  John freed one of his hands pressed between their bodies and was hoping to punch Bane in the mask.  John mentally groaned when he fisted his hand in Bane’s armor for leverage, his hips still thrusting against the bigger man’s leg.  This was not going how he had planned.

“Be still.”

John immediately stilled, whining pathetically at the loss of friction.  Is this what his Nightwing charade was being reduced to?  Rutting against a terrorist in the woods and _wanting_ it?

_Do I really care right now?_

Bane was staring at John, those green eyes almost soft with some emotion John couldn’t recognize beyond his own drunken lust.  Then he felt a pressure on his bottom lip; Bane’s thumb, he was pressing his thumb into John’s lip, the slight pressure adding to the intimate gesture.

John’s response was as embarrassing as it was stupid.  Without hesitating, John took the digit into his mouth, sucking greedily on Bane’s thumb, humming with pleasure at the contact.  Bane simply watched him, allowing John’s attentions to his thumb.  John wanted so badly to rub his cock against Bane again.

“She kissed you,” Bane said, an observation John knew he wanted to hear confirmed.

 John found the will to speak, “Yess…”

John assumed that observation meant Bane had more awareness of what John was suffering through than what John had.  He ignored the humiliating fact that this meant even Bane was more familiar with Ivy’s tricks than John should have been.  But what did that mean that Bane knew how aroused John was at the moment?  Had he coincidentally stumbled upon John—

John’s equilibrium shifted at a dizzying speed, and he found himself flung over Bane’s massive shoulder being bounced around as Bane walked them through the woods toward…

_Oh shit…_

John found it in his lust-addled brain to be concerned about the fact that Bane was walking directly toward the mouth of one of the Cave’s passages.  Which meant he knew about the Cave and…

_If I live through this, he and I need to have a conversation._

John didn’t really care if he lived through this experience.  He didn’t really care about anything at the moment except his straining arousal inside his suit and how goddamn _painful_ it was. He keened loudly, fisting his hands in the armor at Bane’s back and trying to move, or grind, or rub _something_ against the larger man.

There was a sharp pressure on his back, and John realized it was Bane’s massive hand gripping his spine.

“Patience, little bird.”

Oh _fuck_ this.  John was now certain he wouldn’t make it out of this encounter alive.  Throwing caution—and his scruples—out the window, John pushed against Bane’s back, lifting his body off the massive shoulder and sliding down the front of Bane’s body in one smooth motion.  Bane tried to stop John, having assumed his masked-captive was trying to get away from him, and gripped the back of John’s thighs in his massive hands.  In a fluid move that John was more than a little impressed by, he wrapped his legs around Bane’s large hips and ground his own erection into, much to his surprise, Bane’s own straining cock.  This caused the masked man to falter in his steps, his grip tightening on John’s rear as John uncooperatively began to grind his hips against Bane’s.  John lunged forward and attacked the skin of Bane’s neck beneath the mask straps with his lips and tongue, kissing and nipping at the salty flesh like he was devouring his last meal. 

 Bane grunted, the sound distorted by the mask but still serving to arouse John as proof of Bane’s own desire.  John hadn’t realized they had made it to the mouth of the Cave’s tunnel, noticed too late that everything was suddenly dark and the noise of the city had vanished, before he was suddenly slammed none too gently into a wall with Bane’s massive weight pushing the air out of John’s lungs.  Bane ripped John’s hands off him, gripping them in one large fist and pulling them over John’s head and into the wall.

With one hand Bane pulled the lower half of John’s suit off his body; John kicking off his boots and pants when they were to his ankles. Without preamble, Bane gripped John’s leaking cock into his massive hand and began to pump his fist.  John hissed, fucking into Bane’s hand until he felt his cock become wet with his pre-come.

“Do…it,” he demanded, thrusting harder into Bane’s hand.

John could feel his release approaching, and much faster than had ever been typical for him.  His thrusts became sporadic and frenzied; biting his lip to prevent himself from screaming a mantra of ‘Yes’ at Bane.  He was almost there, could feel his release building in his sacs, when a particularly _hard_ squeeze of his cock had John yelping as Bane prevented John from climaxing.  The terrorist’s eyes narrowed as he watched the undone Nightwing writhe against the wall, his teeth clenched as he desperately sought the orgasm Bane withheld from him.

“I said ‘patience,’ little bird.”

Fuck that.  John was _done_ being patient; he was done being told to be patient; and he just wanted to fucking _come_.

Ripping his arms free of Bane’s grip—which John knew had probably been _allowed_ on Bane’s part considering his superior strength—John flung his arm around the terrorist’s neck, and pulled him closer to John so he could reach his lips to Bane’s neck and attack the skin there, kissing and licking the skin above the larger man’s pulse.

“Please…” John growled into Bane’s neck, his hips thrusting forward to try and create the friction he so badly desired.  His arousal was on the brink of becoming painful and he saw no other way to purge his body of Ivy’s poison than to come.

“You desire this from me, little bird?” Bane sounded skeptical, like he wanted John to acknowledge aloud that _this_ would never happen under normal circumstances.  John was confused.  Did Bane want him to say no?  What would happen then?  John squeezed his eyes shut as a throbbing pain began to form in his head, as if his mind’s response to the confusion and subsequent rise in rational thinking was to flood his brain with lust.  John said the only thing that made sense.  Besides…better it was Bane on the receiving end of John’s lust than some innocent woman who couldn’t defend herself.  Bane had _approached_ John knowingly.

“Yes…I…do.”

John hissed in displeasure when the hot pressure of Bane’s hand on his cock was suddenly gone and the cold, damp air of the tunnel hit the sensitive skin like a bucket of ice water.  Bane’s grip on John’s body shifted, both hands gripping John’s rear as he pulled them away from the tunnel wall and resumed walking toward the Cave.  John tightened his legs around the terrorist’s waist and tried not to squirm in Bane’s grip; he felt Bane’s stiff cock brushing against his own with every step and desperately wanted to rub himself against it to relieve the ache that was building within him. 

“Please…I can’t…I need—unngh!!”

John gasped when Bane’s grip tightened on his rear and crashed their hips together, his cock grinding into Bane’s in a way that felt _just right_.  John threw his head back as he began to grind his hips into Bane’s, his hands fisting in the straps of Bane’s armor for leverage.  Bane slid his hands along the smooth skin of John’s rear until he was gripping the underside of John’s thighs; Bane’s painful grip on the soft flesh, and his massive erection, the only indication that he was struggling to maintain his composure and walk at the same time.

John was quickly losing all sense of where they were in the tunnel and how much time had passed since Bane had begun walking.  Was it 30 minutes or 30 seconds?  It didn’t matter; nothing mattered but that sweet friction between John’s cock and Bane’s.  John’s breath came out in ragged pants as he moved faster grinding against Bane’s cock.  He wondered if he could maneuver Bane’s hand toward his ass, John’s filthy imagination picturing those thick fingers penetrating his hole.  It would feel incredible, John already knew, but instead of forcing his hands into motion to move Bane’s hand, John simply held on tighter to Bane’s armor and moved his hips in jerky movements against Bane’s cock.  His imagination of Bane penetrating him was enough to send John over the edge, his back arching as his cock twitched in between their bodies, sending hot, thick ropes of come onto the armor covering Bane’s stomach and John’s.

John’s body relaxed in Bane’s grip, his breathing heavy, as he discovered that that one orgasm had offered his mind a modicum of clarity, but only to realize that he needed more, _wanted_ more.  His cock was still achingly stiff between their bodies and his arousal seemed unabated.  He noticed, too, that Bane was still hard in his pants, and John assumed the larger man had not come from John’s movements.

John’s equilibrium shifted again and he realized Bane had just laid him on his bed in the small apartment in the Cave.  When had they made it to the Cave?  How the hell did Bane know the passcode for the door?  John was too aroused to be embarrassed that he had not noticed Bane shuffling his weight earlier as he maneuvered them through several doors and into the Cave.  John would care later.

Bane was staring at John, his body hovering over John’s smaller frame as he examined him.  John figured Bane was determining whether or not John was still intoxicated, for lack of a better description of what Ivy had done to him, and he answered Bane’s questioning gaze by thrusting his hips into the larger man’s, moaning aloud when his aching cock collided with Bane’s.  John smirked when Bane stiffened above him, the terrorist’s hips stuttering against John’s before he stilled again, trying to keep control of his body.  That was a minor victory for John, who was suddenly obsessed with the idea of making Bane lose control.

“You are still unsatisfied?” Bane asked, and John suspected the masked man was smirking.

John managed a nod, his hands sliding down the armor covering Bane’s back until he could grip the man’s well-defined ass.  _Damn_ , John couldn’t help but think.  Bane had a nice ass.  John was able to lift himself up enough to press his lips to Bane’s throat before dragging his tongue along the hot skin to the junction of Bane’s neck and his ridiculously-thick shoulder, where John parted his lips and sunk his teeth into the skin there.  Bane stiffened, one hand gripping John’s hip and pinning him to the bed as he thrust his hips against John’s naked cock, a strangled sound coming from the mask.  John stifled a laugh, it sounded like Bane may have tried to choke back a gasp but with the mask it just sounded like a robot shorting out…which wasn’t an entirely inaccurate observation.

John slid his hands to the front of Bane’s pants and began to fumble with the fastenings when both his hands were suddenly pinned to the bed above his head in Bane’s tight grip.  Bane scowled down at him, his grip tightening painfully around John’s wrists when he started to struggle against Bane’s hold.

“I am not the one who has been poisoned, little bird,” Bane snarled at him, which just confused John even more.  Bane was obviously aroused and clearly struggling to fight that arousal, so why the hell even bother with all this?  John couldn’t figure out what Bane was trying to do.  Did he expect John to believe that Bane had just so happened to stumble upon Nightwing about to rape two defenseless women and decided, out of the goodness of his heart, to intervene and let John rut against him to work off the toxins?

John growled, frustrated and still incredibly aroused, “Want…you…inside…” John’s monosyllabic responses were not improving and it was getting harder to think beyond his lust as time went by; the reprieve earned from his previous orgasm was beginning to wane.  In conjunction with _really_ needing to orgasm again and continue flushing Ivy’s toxin out of his body, it was a major turn-on for John to imagine Bane losing control; that _he_ would be the reason Bane—a man whose every word, every movement was measured, controlled and precise—lost control.

Bane’s eyes narrowed as he watched John writhe underneath him, hips stuttering as he tried to brush his leaky cock against Bane’s again.  “You do not know what you ask for, little bird,” Bane said quietly, sounding both angry and sad at the same time.  Bane released one of John’s hands, but guided John’s arm down to his naked cock, silently implying for him to stroke himself.

John fisted his hand around his cock, sighing in genuine relief at the wonderful hum of pleasure that resonated through his body.  It was tempting to just stroke himself off again, his eyes glued to Bane’s delicious body and his imagination bolstering his pleasure, but what Bane said was still bothering John.  Bane had been hesitant to touch John in a sexual way from the moment he had stumbled upon a staggering, twitching Nightwing in the woods.  It had been John who had been aggressive to Bane, not that he could really help it, thanks to Ivy.

John’s eyes widened, suddenly realizing why Bane was so unwilling to touch him.  He had no idea how clear-minded John was, or was not, and did not want to take advantage of him; believing that John was only asking as a result of the toxin.  John couldn’t even scoff at the idea of Bane giving a damn about whether or not he took advantage of him; the evidence was before him, plain as day, from the moment Bane walked out of the bushes to encounter John.  Bane had done nothing to harm John, and had allowed John to pretty much rut against him to find his own release.

John bit his lip, noticed how Bane’s eyes tracked the movement, and realized that, while it would probably be expedient to keep rubbing out his releases until the toxin was purged from his system, he so _badly_ wanted to see Bane lose control.  John didn’t want to examine what that meant, not yet, and couldn’t find it in him to feel shame.  John just wanted to see Bane break apart and needed to figure out a way to show him that he, not the toxin, was willing.

John blinked when Bane’s thumb was at his bottom lip again, slowly pulling the lip out of the grip of his teeth before smoothing the skin with the rough pad of his thumb.  Bane’s eyes were transfixed on John’s mouth, and it suddenly became very clear to John what he wanted to do, whether it convinced Bane or not.

Releasing his cock, John slid his hand up Bane’s body until he cupped the side of Bane’s face.  Bane glared at John; he could see so much suspicion in that gaze.  John pulled Bane’s head toward him, arched his body off the bed as much as he could with his other arm still pinned above his head, and pressed his lips to the center of the mask.

Bane’s entire body stiffened above John, enough that John easily slipped his other hand free from where the larger man had it pinned and wound his arm around Bane, bringing their bodies closer together.  John thrust his hips upward into Bane’s, moaning into his mask when he felt Bane’s cock twitch inside his pants.  John smelled an analgesic in the small puffs of air coming from the vent he was kissing and shivered at the knowledge that it was Bane’s breath coming from his mouth, scant centimeters away from John’s own lips.

“Please,” he whispered into the vent of the mask, Bane blinking at him as he tried to maintain composure and remain unreadable.  “This little bird wants you to come inside me.”

A low rumble came from Bane as he gently pushed John flat onto the bed, his fingers tracing along the arching blue symbol on his chest before gliding over his lips, a silent request.  John eagerly took three of Bane’s fingers into his mouth, sucking on them greedily while he stretched his arms down to reach the fastening’s of Bane’s pants.  This time, Bane allowed John to open his pants and release his… _oh my god, yes!_ …rather massive cock into John’s eager hands.  John hummed around Bane’s fingers as he stroked the larger man’s cock, enjoying the way Bane growled low in his chest when John twisted his fist around Bane’s uncut dick.

John’s mouth was suddenly empty as Bane grabbed both of his thighs and pulled them apart, dipping his hand lower and circling the tight ring of muscle with one wet finger.  John’s entire body shuddered, his cock twitching on his belly as he pushed his hips down onto that finger, wanting Bane inside him so badly.  Bane must have become as impatient as John was, because John was suddenly arching his back, shouting to the ceiling of the apartment when Bane pushed two fingers inside of him.  The pain and pleasure was perfect, and John was not surprised when he suddenly came all over his chest, thick ropes of come shooting over the Nightwing symbol with every push of Bane’s fingers into his clenching hole.

The second orgasm brought even more clarity to his mind than the first, but John didn’t heed his churning thoughts, relishing instead on the pleasurable burn of a third, slick finger pushing past the tight ring of muscle and joining the other two inside of him.  John gasped when Bane pushed deep, his knuckles pressed into his ass and his fingers brushing his prostate.  Bane kept his fingers pushed deep, pumping his fingers against John’s prostate until John’s cock was stiffening against his belly once more.  John could feel his hole stretching to accommodate the girth of Bane’s large fingers, the pleasant burn from before yielding to a pleasure unlike anything John had ever experienced before in his life; his head thrashing from side to side, fists clenched in the sheets of his bed as he thrust his hips down on to Bane’s fingers. 

“N-Now…please…I want you now, Bane…please,” John held Bane’s gaze when the larger man’s head snapped in his direction, both aware of what it meant that John could form slightly more coherent sentences.  John was able to think beyond his desire, the lust no longer uncontrollable.  This would have been that time when John fled, when he was capable of controlling himself and not hell-bent on fucking something.  Bane paused in his ministrations, silently giving John the option to push him away and flee.  _You can change your mind_ , that hard gaze seemed to say, _I would let you do that. I_ want _you to do that_.

John grabbed Bane’s wrist, pulling his wet fingers slowly from John’s clenching hole.  Bane let himself be moved, his gaze dropping to the side, assuming, John wagered, that John had changed his mind.  John let him assume.

Bane’s assumption made grabbing the larger man by the shoulders and guiding him over John until their bodies were slotted together so much more enjoyable for John, who smirked at the curious glance Bane shot him.  John gently grabbed Bane’s still-hard cock, squeezing to earn a muffled groan from Bane, before guiding the masked man’s dick to his hole.  John circled the head of Bane’s cock around his hole, his eyes clenched shut, and shuddering from the pleasure of anticipating that cock filling him and driving him wild.  His eyes slid open when he felt the familiar pressure of a thumb denting his lower lip, and he met Bane’s steady gaze before pressing his lips into the thumb, knowing he was ‘kissing’ Bane back.  Bane rumbled above him, tilting his hips until the head of his cock pushed past the entrance of John’s hole.

“Yes _sss_ ,” John hissed, his back arching off the bed causing his hips to push down, allowing Bane to slide in so much further into him.  John growled in frustration when Bane remained still, refusing to move.

“Tell me you desire this, little bird,” Bane growled above him, his thick arms caging John beneath the massive weight of his body.  John rolled his eyes, grateful for Bane’s insistence in making sure John was willing, but aggravated that he had to keep reassuring Bane of that fact.

“I don’t desire this,” John had to latch on to Bane’s armor as the larger man suddenly tried to pull away, dragging Bane against his body until they were face to mask; John pressed his lips to the cold steel of the vent, “I desire _you_ , dammit.”

That seemed to be good enough for Bane.  He grabbed John’s hips in his hands, pinning the smaller man to the bed as he slowly pushed into John, causing the half-dressed Nightwing to cry out and arch his back as he was slowly filled by Bane.  John hissed in pleasure when he felt Bane bottom out, his pants brushing against the back of John’s naked thigh.  John’s cock stood erect between their bodies, twitching and leaking pre-come.  Whether Bane gave a tiny thrust or simply shifted his weight, John wasn’t sure and didn’t care, for that movement made the tip of Bane’s cock gently brush over John’s prostate, which sent him over the edge for the third time.  His release painted the upper half of his already come-splattered uniform and with every spurt the fog in his mind seemed to lift, until John almost felt like his normal self again.  John’s eyes snapped open when he realized Bane wasn’t moving again; had paused to watch John’s release and wait for what he still assumed would be the inevitable moment when John realized the error he had made.

Growling again, John pushed at Bane’s chest with all his strength but kept his hips locked around Bane’s waist.  Bane moved easily—John knew it would _never_ be that easy to move Bane—until he made a strangled noise when John maneuvered him to lie on his back, his cock still firmly seated inside John.  John didn’t waste time reassuring Bane again of his wants but began to thrust his hips back onto Bane’s cock, his hands planted on Bane’s taut stomach for leverage. 

John moaned at how _fucking incredible_ it felt to be fucking himself on Bane’s massive cock.  His jaw fell open on a gasp, the air pushing from his lungs with every touch of Bane’s cock against his prostate.  John was going to come again soon.

“Bane…touch me.  Please…”  Bane stared at him for a long moment, long enough that John smirked at Bane while he rode his cock, as if to say, _See this? They don’t get much more willing than me_.

Bane’s large hand fisted around John’s cock, easily pumping the slicked up skin, which made John move faster up and down Bane’s cock.  For a brief moment, John wondered if Bane was simply going to let John do this without actively participating unless under John’s direction.  It made John’s plan of watching Bane lose control seem futile since the larger man underneath him was so hesitant to just fuck John.

Growling low in his throat, John clenched the muscles of his ass and twisted his hips as he lifted off Bane’s cock before slamming his hips back down onto Bane’s.

That definitely did it.

Bane stiffened beneath John, a muffled growl coming from the mask before Bane grabbed John’s hips and began to fuck into him hard.  It was overwhelming, blinding pleasure that ratcheted down John’s spine; so much that John almost closed his eyes so he could ride the pleasure through to his release.  But that wasn’t what he wanted; John wanted to see Bane lose control, to see the collection of unseen events over the past year break apart before his very eyes.  Bane had not stumbled upon John on this night; and he knew better than to believe in such a coincidence.  If it was as John suspected, than Bane would not be able to help himself.

John’s fourth orgasm blindsided him, but he didn’t pause to savor how clear his mind felt or how amazing _that_ particular orgasm was, choosing instead to watch Bane’s face as his eyes clenched shut and loud bursts of air vented from the mask with his heavy pants.  John could see Bane’s muscles spasm all over his body where the skin was exposed, and even beneath the armor below John’s hands.  John was almost made breathless by the sight of Bane slowly coming apart at the seams beneath John’s body.  This masked man, Gotham’s reckoning, was _beautiful_.  John saw so much pent up emotion that was always held at bay behind Bane’s eyes suddenly seep through the cracks of his well-constructed walls of defense.  It floored John, even frightened him a little, that Bane fell apart as a result of being with _him_.

It was when John’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of Bane arching beneath him that he heard something, it sounded like a word he recognized, and then he realized it was coming from Bane.  He quieted his breathing to listen to Bane quietly mutter something again, barely audible, but it made John gasp aloud when he recognized what Bane had said.

“Robin…”

John’s chest clenched with some unknown emotion when Bane called him by his name; a name that no one had addressed him with since both his parents had died.

John fucked back onto Bane’s cock harder, matching Bane’s dizzying pace, and wanting to see Bane come.  Now was not the time to examine everything…now was the time to indulge.

“Come for me Bane.  I-I want you to…ungh…come inside me.”

Bane hissed something in a language John couldn’t identify, his grip on John’s hips tightening as his thrusts became erratic and jerky.  John held his eyes open, watching Bane obsessively as he noticed all the minor tells that prefaced Bane’s pending release.  The masked man’s eyes would squeeze shut before opening wide, meeting John’s gaze and holding it before the pleasure became too much again and his eyes would roll back slightly before squeezing shut again.  The sounds coming from the vent of Bane’s mask would be borderline terrifying in any other context.  His pants, groans, hisses, moans, growls and random, fragmented words in various languages were distorted by the mask and filled the room with a cacophony of mechanized sounds more appropriate for a factory setting than two people fucking in a bedroom.  Bane’s body, John shuddered at the sight because Bane had a _beautiful_ body.  Clothed as he still was, every inch of Bane that was touching John was well-formed, hard, twitching muscle; muscle that would spasm and stiffen with every thrust down of John’s hips.  Overall, John was overwhelmed by how shattered Bane looked, and how beautiful he was in those shattered pieces.  John wasn’t bothered by how much he liked what he saw; when Bane was in one piece again, John had a feeling he was never going to look at Bane the same way again.

John heard Bane’s breath hitch as Bane held John still as he thrust into him one final time, his body stiff as he roared his release.  John cried out, feeling Bane’s cock twitch inside him and the hot gush of come fill him.  John’s back arched as his fifth and final orgasm rocked his entire body, his screams following Bane’s loud roars.  John’s body collapsed after he came, and the last thing he was aware of as he fell forward was Bane’s hands catching him and gently lowering John to his chest.


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Definitely wasn't my intention for it to take this long to post this chapter, so I apologize for the agonizing anticipation. (ha). This relationship will continue in a series of one shots, and I would love input from you all on various scenarious that we can put Bane and Blake through. :D
> 
> Enjoy.

John woke up in the bed of his apartment in the Cave, completely naked under the sheets.  He was aware right away of the perfect clarity in his mind, and immediately took stock of his surroundings.  The lights were off in the room, but his door leading out to the rest of the Cave was cracked; a golden, flickering light seeping through from somewhere in the Cave.  John thought he heard a crackling noise from beyond his door.  The light from the cracked door was enough for John to see when he sat up in bed that he had been cleaned of the evidence of his many orgasms, though the top half of his suit was nowhere to be seen in the room.  John also realized that, along with the lack of fog in his mind from Ivy’s toxin, his body felt wonderfully sore, as if he had dozed after a hard workout.

John smirked.  Ivy’s toxin did not include symptoms of memory loss…John knew damn well what had happened before he passed out; and he had a sneaking suspicion of what—or rather _who_ —was waiting for him beyond his apartment door.  John crept on silent feet, ignoring his nakedness as he quietly pushed the door open all the way.  He stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame as he silently observed the sight before him.

Bane had made a fire in the center of one of the platforms in the Cave and was examining John’s Nightwing suit.  Bane must have retrieved the bottom half and his boots from the passage where they had been discarded, since John saw them lying next to where Bane sat on a wooden crate, clothed in only his pants and boots, his bare back to where John stood.  John wasn’t surprised to see Bane there, knowing he would not have left John alone.  It was almost staggering to the former detective how much had changed in such a small span of time—he should have woken up, guns blazing, and attacked Bane; incapacitated him in some way so he could be handed over to the authorities and punished for his crimes during the Occupation.  Alternatively, John would have suspected that Bane would have taken advantage of John while he slept, taken him out when he was least likely to put up a fight, or at least be waiting for him when he woke up so he could fight him while John’s mind was fresh.  But no, neither instance was a reality after all that had transpired.

John took the time to examine what he knew, because he and Bane _did_ need to have a conversation, but only after John examined all that was evident to him.  He had not been a detective for nothing.

Bane had, very obviously, been keeping tabs on John since the Occupation.  John wasn’t certain of how he had managed to catch Bane’s attention—they had never seen one another during the Occupation—but Bane had clearly invested a lot of time in getting to know John indirectly.  He knew John’s real name, a fact that was only revealed if someone bothered to look John up in the GCPD databases or happened to glance at his license.  He knew John was Nightwing and he knew where the Cave was and all of its many alternate passages.  John was a little embarrassed to realize that Bane had been following him around for a _long_ time without John ever realizing it, but John quickly brushed the embarrassment away.  There was clearly no harm done. 

Bane had even spent some time quietly bolstering his reputation amongst Gotham’s newest criminals.  John remembered how suddenly Ivy had vanished from the garden complex.  She had not been deterred by Nightwing, not in the slightest, but she had bolted from her prize the moment she realized Bane was in the area.

_“Dammit, what is_ he _doing here?!” Ivy hissed._

They had obviously encountered one another before, or Ivy had been in constant communication with her plants and was knowledgeable of Bane’s reputation.  In either scenario, she had no interest in crossing Bane and was very quick to abandon her prize. 

Then there was the matter of what Bane was doing at the garden complex in the first place.  John had heard nothing of any criminals being found injured or dead with no reliable source of who they had encountered, so Bane was not interested in any direct form of justice with Gotham’s more fanciful criminals.  However, John _had_ noticed a steady decrease in their movements or a noticeable increase in stealth whenever they did move.  Gotham’s criminals had been trying to hide, and now John knew who they were hiding from.  

Yet, Bane had not gone after Ivy after she left the complex…he had followed John instead.  John realized Bane had likely _always_ been silently observing John whenever he prowled the streets of Gotham at night, defending her innocent from the actions of the corrupt.  Ivy was the first time John had ever lost control of the situation in dealing with a criminal.  Even when Batman’s stupid gas had knocked him out, along with the person he was after, before John had become inoculated to the effects of the gas, it always made John wonder how he could be unconscious for a good five minutes and _never_ have someone, criminal or civilian, stumble upon him.  John was vulnerable in those few minutes, and yet no one ever came across him in those moments of weakness.  Now he knew…Bane had been watching over him.  John had never known before, because Bane had never intervened.  With Ivy and her toxin, and the very real possibility of John expending his lust on two innocent women, Bane had finally intervened.

But it had been John who had been the aggressor; John who had initiated _every_ sexual touch.  Bane was indirectly saving the lives of two women, allowing John to expend his sexual desire on Bane’s body, yet restraining himself from actively participating despite his own very obvious arousal.  Bane didn’t want John that way, and oh…yes, John knew, Bane had wanted John fiercely.  Bane didn’t want John because he was suddenly so willing with Ivy’s toxin coursing through his veins; Bane wanted John to want him, freely and of his own volition.  It made it very difficult to look at Bane as a mass-murdering terrorist when he did so much _good_ for Gotham in the following year in quietly supporting John as Nightwing.

John couldn’t stop the smirk that spread his lips as the evidence began to draw the detective toward one, very startling, but very clear conclusion.  Part of that evidence was the appearance of a little phrase; the entire night Bane had continued to address John with an _endearment_.

_“Are you very lost, little bird?”_

At first John suspected it was a condescending term; a snarky jab at John’s vigilante identity.  Then Bane said John’s _name_ as he came undone beneath him, thrusting into John to find his completion, calling out to him…

_“…Robin.”_

Bane knew several intimate facts about John’s life, enough that Bane seemed to know John rather well.  ‘Little bird’ was clearly something affectionate Bane had thought of for John over the past year watching him; that affection bled into the endearment, and then into Bane’s ‘kiss.’  Why else would Bane bother kissing John, in the only way he knew how, if not for one thing.

Bane cared _deeply_ for John.

It was hardly the most outward affection, but John realized it had been there all along, despite him only now realizing it.  And John knew he may have never realized it had Bane not intervened after Ivy kissed him.  Bane would have continued to watch over Nightwing, a silent specter supporting him as he continued to protect the innocent of Gotham.

“You must have many questions for me, little bird,” John heard Bane rumble from across the Cave, and glanced up to meet Bane’s gaze.  He smiled to himself when Bane’s gaze raked down John’s naked body, the former terrorist clearly trying not to reveal how startled he was that John was simply standing there, after everything that had happened, stark naked.

John tilted his chin up, one side of his lips quirked up in a smile, “Just one actually.”

Bane blinked at him before returning his gaze to the fire, his back to John.  “Only one?”

“Mhmm,” John hummed.  Bane lifted a hand as if to silently beckon John to continue, but he was uncaring of whether he did or not.  John knew better; he saw those fingers twitch in Bane’s lap when he lowered his hand again.

“Why me?”

It was the only variable John could not account for, out of everything that had occurred between him and Bane, directly and indirectly.  John deduced what Bane had been doing over the past year, realized he was paying special attention to John in particular, and even discovered that Bane was harboring some affection for the former-detective.  John just didn’t know _why_.

Bane was silent for a long while, his gaze locked onto the fire in front of him.  John saw that Bane knew exactly what he was asking; had figured everything out already before speaking to him.  Neither one of them were ignorant, both making a living out of knowing what others did not and deducing the grander picture out of what was evident in the tiny puzzle pieces.  However, after a long moment of silence, John feared he may have dug too deep.  It had only been a few hours since everything had come to light; and while he learned more about Bane in those few hours than most would ever know in observing him for a lifetime, John realized he may have penetrated too far, too soon.  Finally, Bane began to speak, and his response surprised John.

“I was going to kill you a year ago when you took up Batman’s mantle as Gotham’s protector.”

_Oh._

John remained silent, certain he had not miscalculated Bane’s intentions in not harming him after their encounter on this night, but wanting to hear Bane elaborate on what his plans then meant for his intentions _now_.

“I did not want all the work I had done in Gotham to be for naught. Batman was a symbol for justice in Gotham, but he perpetuated the decadence and corruption that was crippling this city from the inside out.  Batman trusted no one, did not believe in Gotham’s ability to endure and rise from the ashes.  So when you came forth as Gotham’s new symbol, I intended to take you out, unwilling to allow my League’s sacrifice to be in vain.

“Then I saw, as if overnight, how you became a symbol for the weak to rise against the strong.  You showed people how to believe in themselves once again.  You strengthened Gotham’s police force, not with your presence, but rather with your absence.  Your knowledge, Batman’s resources, you trusted Gotham in a way that Batman never did.  You taught Gotham to fend for itself, only intervening to protect the interests of the innocence who could not protect themselves.  You showed Gotham that it is not the simplest method, doing what is right, but it is the most rewarding.”

John swallowed the lump in his throat that had risen from Bane’s words.  John had never known if people had _noticed_ his hard work…but Bane certainly had.  John had never wanted to be Gotham’s knight in shining armor…he had been disgusted with how everyone had turned on one another during Bane’s Occupation.  John wanted to support those who rose up to defend themselves; and he wanted to punish those who tried to cheat the system.  John was not judge, juror, and executioner.  John never tried to do the GCPD’s job.  John gathered evidence and gave it to the GCPD to do with it as they saw fit.  Sometimes the GCPD and the people of Gotham made the wrong choice; elected the new mayor despite evidence showing he tried to get away with tax fraud, or allowed a wealthy businessman to buy his way out of embezzlement charges.  It infuriated John, but he knew he had done all he could, given all the evidence he found to the GCPD and let them do _their_ job.  If they, and the people of Gotham, failed to act accordingly, that was their loss.  John was a symbol that when they fell, they should aspire to rise higher than before.  In circumstances where John had to directly intervene before supplying evidence to the police, it was always to save the life of an innocent.  While John typically tipped off the GCPD of instances like Ivy, he knew the GCPD would suffer many losses from dealing with a meta-human.  He had the equipment and the skill to deal with her (well… _now_ he did), and until the GCPD started implementing tougher training regimens for the police force, John was going to have to use his superior skill to assist them.

“I…could not help but want to know more about the symbol who inspired Gotham in a way that Batman never had.  I followed you to the Cave, saw your face, found your file in the GCPD archives and learned of your true identity.  I began to follow you nightly, keeping watch as you learned to combat Gotham’s filth on your own, knowing that you had much to learn.  I wanted to make sure Gotham’s new symbol lived long enough to become a success.”

Bane was quiet after that, and John saw him tying and untying a rope in his hands; likely a nervous gesture to keep his hands busy.  John sighed to himself.  It made sense now why Bane suddenly took an interest in Nightwing, but it didn’t explain the affection John _knew_ existed from Bane.  Quietly, John walked to the platform where Bane was seated.  The masked man glanced up at John when he appeared at Bane’s side, leaning back with a grunt when John invaded his space, pushing Bane’s arms apart until he could move in and seat himself in Bane’s lap, straddling the larger man.  Bane held John, his hands coming to rest on his bare back; it was then John realized Bane was examining his face again, looking for signs that Ivy’s toxin was still influencing John’s actions.

“The toxin is well out of my system by now,” John whispered, arms reaching around Bane’s neck.  This was unusual behavior for John, who was typically never so forward, but he figured he could at least act accordingly with an unusual situation.

They didn’t get much more unusual than this one.

Bane frowned at him, his body stiffening against John’s, “Your affections are no longer necessary to guarantee your safety or the safety of others.  You are not endangering anyone and I will not harm you.”

John quirked his brow, “What makes you think I’m being affectionate for the sake of saving my own skin?”

“Because we both know this affection does not exist outside the symptoms of Ivy’s poison.”

“It does now.”

Bane snarled, gripping John by his arms and bringing them face to mask, Bane staring John down with a scowl, his anger blinding him.  “Do you think me foolish? _This_ ,” Bane gestured between them, “would never have transpired before this night.”

John scowled back at Bane, uncertain as to why he was suddenly being so difficult. “You think I don’t know that?” He shouted back, “You think I would have even entertained the _idea_ of this happening between me, Gotham’s protector, and _you_ , ‘Gotham’s reckoning’?”

Bane snarled again, his grip tightening painfully on John’s arms, but John was not going to be deterred.  This was, in its simplest form, Bane’s fear of rejection.  John didn’t have to know Bane very well to be able to see clearly through the ex-terrorist’s sudden defense.  Bane had never, and likely would have never, approached John with his interest before he was poisoned by Ivy.  Why Bane had been willing to harbor his attraction toward John, forever assuming that it would unrequited, John would never know, except to assume that it was from fear of John’s instant refusal.  That fear was not unfounded; John could admit that, because before this night Bane would have been one of the last people in the world John would have imagined himself with.  John, on the other hand, was willing to take a chance at this; but now it was a matter of proving that to Bane.

John broke out of Bane’s grip on his arms—which itself was a testament to Bane’s unwillingness to harm John—reached forward and grabbed Bane _by his mask_ , bringing him closer to John’s face.  Bane reacted immediately, snarling aloud and his body tensing to attack before John shouted back at him.

“Enough! If you want to act like a naïve animal, then I’ll treat you like one, but I am _not_ afraid of you and you don’t have to act like I am!” John emphasized this by looking pointedly at his grip on the front of Bane’s mask—or rather the muzzle of an unruly dog.  Bane stilled, glaring at John, but remained still. John sighed, “I _know_ this never would have happened on its own, but I’m _choosing_ to embrace the results of the catalyst that set this in motion.  My affections for you are new,” John whispered, releasing Bane’s mask and sliding his hand down to grip Bane’s shoulders, “but we both know yours are not.”

Bane was silent as John met his heated glare with unflinching courage. John knew Bane could not accept something that was so unprecedented so easily—John wasn’t so easily accepting it either; but he also wasn’t going to let something so unique slip through his fingers.  Bane was more than Gotham’s reckoning, more than an implement of social justice wiping clean the foundation of corruption and filth societies are built upon.  John wanted to know more of the man that was hiding beneath that mask.  John was open-minded; he wanted to have the opportunity to explore this new development with Bane, to show Bane that he was capable of caring for someone beyond what their actions depicted.  John saw a glimpse of who Bane was tonight…and he wanted to see more.

Bane simply sneered back at John, his walls still erect and unwilling to let John in, “You think I care for you, foolish boy?”

John tilted his chin up defiantly, “Tell me you don’t then.”

Bane hesitated, silent.

John scowled at Bane, still frustrated that the larger man could not openly admit his feelings to John.  “I don’t want to walk away from this, but if you can’t freely admit to me that you’ve been harboring feelings for me, then I guess I don’t have a choice.”

Bane remained silent, and it was surprising to John how painful that really was.  John supposed it was naïve to expect Bane and he to ‘live happily ever after,’ but he also felt it was foolish to throw away a chance at being with someone who shared similar ambitions, beliefs, and reasons with him; to deny an attraction that _obviously_ existed between the two of them.  John saw so much beauty inside Bane…and he wanted to see more.

Sighing in disappointment, John shifted to get off of Bane and slink away to some forgotten corner of the Cave to lick his wounds until Bane left. 

Bane’s hands shot out to grab John’s hips, bringing him further against his body, “Robin…”

John’s lips quirked at the sound of his real name coming from Bane’s mask and wound his arms around Bane’s neck, looking at him expectantly.

“You know this can never be. This city would never approve of its protector consorting with the instrument of its near downfall.”

John rolled his eyes, “ _This_ city, of all places, has no business judging _me._ And I hardly think what you and I just did can be considered ‘consorting,’ thank you very much.”

“So what then?” Bane asked with a growl, pulling John’s body flush with his large frame, trapping John’s stiffening cock in between their bodies.  Bane’s mask pressed against the skin of John’s neck, hot puffs of air venting onto his skin. “Will I forever be a blind spot to Gotham’s Nightwing?  Do you plan on keeping me hidden from the police forever? How very un- _heroic_ of you…”

John snorted, his hips stuttering against Bane’s hard stomach as his arousal came alive again. “You’ve been ‘dead’ for over a year now.  You don’t need me to hide you from anyone.”

Bane chuckled beneath him, causing John to pause and stare wide-eyed at Bane.  It was rather romantic of him, but John didn’t think he had ever heard a more beautiful sound than Bane laughing.

“So what then, little bird? You won’t turn me in to the GCPD?  Won’t tell them I’m alive so they can hunt me down?”

John bit his lip…Bane was right.  John should alert the police of Bane’s existence in Gotham and help them track him down so he could be incarcerated for his crimes.  That was his _job_.  Nightwing was supposed to do that.  Yet John did not need to examine that idea for very long to know that he did not _want_ to turn Bane in.  It was as simple as that.  Bane had a place in John’s life now, and as selfish and contradictory as it would be for Nightwing to associate with Bane, John just didn’t care.

John shrugged, leaning forward to press his forehead against Bane’s, “I guess you will be a blind spot for me…I’m not letting you go.”

Bane ‘tsked’ at John, his hands smoothing up and down John’s back. “I will not corrupt Gotham’s only symbol for true justice and self-reliance.  That is not, and will never be, my objective.”

John smirked, “Nightwing is more than just a symbol.  He’s a man.  That’s all I am, Bane.  I’m a man, and I am just as fallible as anyone else in Gotham.  I’m not going to pretend I don’t care about you.”

John grabbed one of Bane’s hands and gently led it to his lip, singling out Bane’s thumb and brushing the pad over his bottom lip.  Bane groaned at the contact, taking control of his hand to gently press his thumb into John’s lip.  A simple kiss. John smiled under the digit, parting his lips to nip playfully at the skin.

“You still refuse to admit you care for me?” John whispered, meeting Bane’s gaze with a hopeful glance.  It was bad enough that Bane was forced to wear a mask all the time…John wasn’t going to let him hide anything else from him ever again, including his feelings.

John felt rather than heard Bane sigh, his chest expanding before it contracted quickly with his exhale.  “I care a great deal for you, Robin, as you have become a blind spot for me as well.”

John smiled fully, leaning forward to press his lips to the vent of Bane’s mask.  Bane’s arms tightened around John’s naked body, a deep rumble vibrating from the larger man’s chest as they held one another close.

John tried not to squirm in Bane’s arms, he really did, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to ignore his cock pressed between their bodies and the friction that created a familiar tingle in his sacs and had him flushing with his arousal.  John was _really_ surprised that he was even capable of becoming aroused so quickly after expending Ivy’s poison out of his system…five times.  He had been certain there was nothing left in his body to expend.

John felt a rumble from Bane, and then the larger man was chuckling as he pulled away slightly from John, his eyes casting a conspicuous glance toward John’s lap.

“Are you still unsatisfied, my little bird?”

John smiled, glancing down with a blush.  He was about to respond with something snarky about Bane’s effect on him being more potent than Ivy’s when it occurred to John exactly what Bane had said.

_“…my little bird.”_

Bane had called John _his_.  There was a quick clench of anxiety in John’s chest; it seemed too much too fast.  John hadn’t expected so much possession from Bane so soon, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about it.  The anxious feeling waned, and gave way to a flutter that made John realized he like belonging to Bane.  As fast-paced and capricious as it seemed, John knew this was nothing ordinary between the two of them.  It was useless trying to frame what they were going to share in an ordinary space.

Feeling more playful than usual—and particularly horny—John quirked a brow at Bane, his lip pulling upward at the corner.  “Who said I was yours?” he whispered.

Bane growled deep in his throat, his grip on John tightening until their bodies were almost flush, “I did.”

“Hmm…” John made a show of contemplating Bane’s words, but his heart stuttered in his chest when he licked his lips and caught Bane tracking the movement like a wolf stalking prey.  John leaned forward until he was nose-to-mask with Bane, his lips brushing the metal vent of the mask. “I’m not sure I believe you just yet,” he whispered, his eyes meeting Bane’s.

John yelped when Bane abruptly stood and he was forced to quickly wind his legs around the larger man’s waist as Bane began to carry John toward the bedroom.  Bane sat down at the foot of the bed, fingers suddenly at John’s lips.  John parted his lips, allowing Bane to slide his fingers in for John to suck on.  John groaned, his eyes slipping shut when his cock jolted at having Bane’s fingers shoved into his mouth.   He could already imagine Bane’s fingers slipping into his ass, his hole clenching with the phantom thrusts of Bane fingers.  John wasn’t sure if he had ever been with someone who turned him on so much, or as quickly, as Bane seemed to.  John was already thrusting his hips into Bane’s; grinding his own cock into Bane’s stiffening arousal. 

“Please…” John gasped when Bane pulled his fingers away; spreading his legs wider apart to allow Bane to slip inside of him with ease.

John was still stretched open from their activities a short while ago, and his hole clenched with a pleasant burn when Bane slipped two fingers inside of him and began to thrust, followed shortly by the third.  John clenched his hands on Bane’s massive shoulders and began to thrust his hips back onto Bane’s fingers, crying out when he felt a tentative brush over his prostate.

“Please!” John begged, thrusting his cock against Bane’s bare stomach.

John whined when Bane responded by thrusting his fingers in deeper; a warm blush crept higher on his cheeks when he realized Bane was watching John writhe and buck in his lap.  John’s moans became much louder when he felt Bane’s cock stiffening beneath him.  John was enamored, once again, with the idea of bringing Bane pleasure.  John had not been certain if seducing Bane before had been an effect of the toxin; he had been clear-headed enough to rationalize that he had wanted to bring Bane his release.  Now, with the toxins completely purged from John’s system, he was able to rationalize that his desire for Bane produced an even greater desire to see him pleasured.  With a warm smile, John leaned forward, pressing his lips to the center of Bane’s mask.  He hummed with pleasure when the mask was pushed into him, and he could imagine that Bane was kissing him back.  John’s lips traversed the sides of the mask to Bane’s neck and shoulder, his tongue lathing the skin there before he pressed his teeth into the skin, knowing how wild it drove Bane to be bitten.  Bane reacted accordingly.

A particularly hard thrust of his fingers had John arching his back with a shout, his orgasm creeping up on him quickly. “Please!” he begged, wanting to feel Bane inside him when he came again.

John grunted in aggravation when Bane’s fingers suddenly disappeared, but yelped when he was bodily lifted and spun around in Bane’s lap. It took a moment to figure out what the hell Bane wanted John to do with his legs, so he settled on straddling Bane’s thighs and kneeling on the bed.  John turned his head to look at Bane, to question him just what the fuck was the meaning of _this_ , when Bane grabbed his chin and twisted his head to face forward again, and that’s when John saw it.

_Oh…_ it was shocking, but it was still a turn on—one that John never knew he had a particular kink for until that very moment.

Bane was sitting on the corner of the bed, a fact that John had failed to notice prior, because that corner of the bed was facing the full-length mirror tucked away in one of the room’s corners.  John saw his naked reflection: cock standing stiff against his belly, red and swollen, his cheeks flushed with his arousal and his chest heaving with every breath.

_This is…this is hot_.

John noticed movement between his legs in the reflection and realized Bane had just released his cock from his pants and was lining himself up with John’s hole.  John spread his legs farther apart, biting his lip when Bane’s hand on his hip gently pressed him down until the head of Bane’s cock slipped inside him.  John gasped, eyes wide as he stared at their reflection.  He could see everything.  Watching Bane enter him brought forth a bashfulness John was not familiar with, and he turned his head to the side again, his eyes sliding shut.  There was something about seeing Bane penetrate him that made John suddenly very shy; if not more than a little self-conscious.

“No, my little bird,” Bane said, grabbing John’s chin and forcing his head to face the mirror again, “you will watch.”

John arched his back when Bane pushed inside him further, John’s body taking Bane’s cock to the hilt.  There was no way it was supposed to feel this good this soon, but John felt his cock twitch at being filled by Bane, and _watching_ Bane fill him.

John snorted, his eyes dutifully locked on the mirror, “If I watch, I definitely am not going to last another minute.”

There was a puff of hot air against his neck, and then Bane’s warm chest was pressed firmly into John’s back, his hands squeezing brutally into the smaller man’s hips. “You will not come until I say so,” Bane growled into John’s neck, the mask intensifying the animalistic sound.  John’s eyes widened.

_Dammit…_

“I…I can’t!”

“You will.” Bane punctuated this order with a thrust of his hips, his cock slipping so much deeper into John and nudging his prostate.  John clenched around Bane, holding back a scream as his release crept forward once again, only to recede back to the fringes.  John nearly wept…this was going to be hell, but the really awesome kind that was probably bad for you.

Bane thrust his hips into John’s at a brutal pace, making John buck and writhe against him in something akin to agony or pleasure…or both.  John clenched his hands in the fabric of Bane’s pants, the muscles in Bane’s thighs twitching with every snap of his hips into John’s.  John didn’t want to watch, but he also did because it was so fucking hot seeing himself get pounded into by Bane from behind, his cock bobbing in the air while the breath was pushed from his lungs with every thrust.

“Are you convinced yet, my little bird, that you are mine?” Bane rumbled behind him, and John was satisfied to hear that Bane was _slightly_ breathless from fucking him.  John, while almost completely fucked out of his mind, was still feeling a little vindictive.

“Nope.”

Bane growled loudly behind him, pushing John forward until he had to brace himself on Bane’s knees, his hips angled forward and allowing Bane’s cock to slide _so much deeper_ than he would have ever imagined.  Bane’s already fast pace became more brutal, his powerful thrusts nearly rocking John off his body.  John could only cry out and hang out, his eyes obediently glued to the mirror while his hands fisted around Bane’s knees, pointedly not touching his aching cock.

“Look at yourself, my little bird.”

John’s eyes had never left their reflection, and he gnashed his teeth that Bane seemed to be toying with him. “I…I am!”

“ _Look_ at yourself.”

John did, really watched his body in Bane’s hands.  How shock waves from Bane’s thrusts rippled up John’s body, how every inch of his skin was glistening with a sheen of sweat, how his chest heaved, his cock bobbed painfully, and his mouth gaped open as he cried out with every push of Bane’s cock into his quivering hole.  John knew what he saw.

Bane rumbled behind John, his breath hissing sporadically from the mask’s vent, “Do you look like you could possibly belong to another?”

_No…_ he couldn’t.  Never again.  John cried out when his release bullied its way up his sacs again, and this time he feared he would not be able to stop himself.

“Bane…please!  Please!”

“Say it!” Bane suddenly barked back at him.

“I’m yours! I belong to you…”

“…and me alone.  _Now_ , my little bird, with your eyes open.”

John arched his back, screaming out loud, but his eyes never left the scene in the mirror in front of him.  He watched as his cock stiffened, white ropes of come shooting across the floor.  He bucked back onto Bane’s cock, pushing his release further until he felt Bane’s grip on his waist tighten, his thrusts becoming frenzied as he roared against John’s back.  John felt hot come fill him, moaned when Bane’s hips gave tiny, weak, little thrusts as he emptied inside John completely.  The entire time, John never took his eyes off their reflection.

Bane collapsed back onto the bed, pulling John off his softening cock and dragging his body against Bane’s until they were facing one another on the bed.  John haphazardly pulled the sheet over their bodies, his eyes already drooping when Bane wrapped an arm around his waist.

Nightwing had a lot of work to do later.  Poison Ivy was still unaccounted for and the GCPD needed to know she had her eyes on the research complex’s newest test subject.

But that all could wait; because at the end of the day, Nightwing was just a man in a suit: a man who stood for justice and triumph over the corrupt…but with a small blind spot for a man who, really, stood for the same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More from me soon!


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